


Gold Trans Am

by RavenGrey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Cock Tease!Dean, Dominant Sam, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a major cock-tease and Sam is fed up with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold Trans Am

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Keisha's "Gold Trans Am." 
> 
> Don't judge me, it's seriously freakin' catchy, okay.

           The Impala’s hood slams shut and Dean slams against that. He hits face first, hard, and the breath is punched from his lungs on a grunt. Sam’s weight presses against him immediately, pinning him against Baby’s hood and driving the metal edge right up into his ribs.

            “What the ever-living fuck Sammy?” Dean asks easily, voice ragged, palms flat as he tries to push himself up. Sam’s hand finds the back of his neck, the other gripping his hip with bruising force, and pushes down, Dean’s cheek pressed flat against the cool black surface.

            “I can’t fucking believe you,” Sam breathes back laughingly, grinding his hips hard against Dean’s ass while his long fingers easily span the width of Dean’s neck. “Seriously? The nicotine stained waitress?”  Sammy’s fingers dig into his windpipe and it takes real effort to suck in breaths around his strangle hold. His cock gives a throb inside his jeans and Dean bucks forward, finding the friction he wants against the Impala.

           “Seriously.” He repeats slyly, pushing his hips back in a purposefully frustrating way. Pre-come smears against denim and he gives Sam a ridiculously coy look over his shoulder.

           “What’s the matter Sammy, got a bad case a blueballs?” He manages to bite out, tone pointedly nonchalant while he purposefully thrusts his ass out, pushing back hard into the rock hard outline of Sam’s dick. Sam groans, low and rough, and grinds his clothed cock against Dean’s glorious ass.

           “You are such a freakin’ cock-tease.” Sam pants out, aching cock full and almost painful inside his boxers and jeans.

           Dean laughs, low and smug, the Samulet bouncing against the hood with the force of the hard thrust. “You better not scratch my baby.” Dean warns, fingers scrabbling for something to hold onto and finding not a damn thing. “Your baby is the last thing you should be worried about right now.” Sam growls against Dean’s ear, breathe hot against the flushed lobe.

           Dean shudders, grinning boldly, lust curling fiercely in his lower belly and making his balls tighten. “Come on then, big boy, give me the best you got.” He purrs back, eyes dark and endlessly green as he locks eyes with Sam over his shoulder, using his best porn star voice.

           It garners the reaction he wants, Sammy’s clothed dick rubbing hard against the cleft of his ass, and he moans in appreciation, still far too amused for Sam’s liking. “I plan on it.” Sam mutters, tone low and casually dangerous.

            The hand on his hip finds his ass cheek and Sam’s fingers close tight around the ample skin, kneading and squeezing the cheek hard. Sam’s other hand leaves Dean’s throat with one last brush of fingers over Dean’s adam’s apple and moves to grip his clothed dick, rubbing the front of Dean’s pants pointedly. His fingers rasp over the zipper and Sam lightens his hold on Dean, just barely grazing the teeth.

           Dean is torn between pressing forward into the touch or arching backwards, Sammy’s fingers playing over the skin just above the edge of his jeans. “Fuckin’ get on with it.” Dean groans in frustration, hand leaving the hood the fumble at the button of his jeans. Sam pins his hand quick, slamming it against the hood with enough force that it stings.

           “Fine.” Sam snarls quietly into the shell of Dean’s ear, releasing his wrist to fumble with the catch of his jeans. He doesn’t bother undoing the zip and the teeth catch his skin, skinning the back of it enough to hurt as he grips Dean’s cock, the skin beneath his fingers smooth and slick. The zip comes down on it’s own, pushed open by Sammy’s hand, and Dean’s flushed cock is exposed to the night air, dripping pre-come onto the Impala’s glossy hood.

           “Like that, huh?” Sam asks roughly when Dean actually whimpers, back arching and fingers scrabbling. “ _Oh fuck_.” Dean gasps, hands braced against the heated metal, shivers of brutal arousal rocking his frame while Sam slides his fingers over the length of his shaft, teasing the leaking slit when he reaches the head.

           “Is that a no?” Sam asks, tone surprisingly condescending. He stops completely, their panting breaths filling Sam’s ears. Dean whines, pressing desperately against Sam’s hand, which is still teasing the cleft of his ass “ _Please_.” He gasps, voice hoarse, pleasure exploding behind his eyelids while he pants and moans against the Impala’s previously cool surface.

            It’s Sam’s turn to purr and he does, teeth sinking into the skin of Dean’s earlobe hard enough to break the skin “Sure thing, darlin’.” He murmurs, caging the bleeding skin with his lips and tonuge. He takes his hand off Dean’s ass long enough to suck his middle finger into his mouth, slicking it liberally with spit before he releases it with a wet pop and shoves his hand down the back of Dean’s pants, spit grazing against Dean’s skin and drying.

            Sam forces his ass cheeks apart, finding Dean’s entrance and pressing the spit-slicked finger against the incredibly hot ring of muscle. With no pre-amble, he presses his middle finger in all the way, grazing his prostate in the process, and pumps Dean’s cock with, short, quick strokes.

            Dean’s entire body goes rigid and what little breath he’d had explodes from his lungs on a ragged shout of Sammy’s name.

           Long streaks of cum mar the solid black of the Impala’s hood, slipping hotly over Sam’s fingers to pool against the smooth surface. When Sam’s milked the last few drops from Dean’s spent dick, he wrestles his hand from the inside of Dean’s pants and goes for his own fly, that one finger still buried inside of Dean’s ass.

           He’s got the button and zip undone in seconds and then he’s got a hand around his cock, jerking himself with long, frenzied strokes. Dean’s muscles clench around his finger and that’s all it takes and Sam’s coming over Dean’s back, coating the back of his Black Sabbath t-shirt with cum.

           By the time the last few shudders of Sam’s orgasm have abated Dean’s thoroughly smushed and ready for a good hard fucking, the finger in his ass not near enough. He wriggles his hips, trying the get Sam deeper, only to have Sam pull the finger out with a taunting slowness and leave him empty.

           Placing a smug kiss on the back of Dean’s neck, he snags the room key out of Dean’s jacket pocket which had been haphazardly thrown over the top of the Impala when Dean had started the inspection of his baby, and darts the motel room, locking Dean out.

           It won’t deter him for long, but it ensures that Sam gets the first shower. Dean’s indignant shout behind him is well worth the chafe of rough jean against his over-sensitized dick. 


End file.
